Holding Pattern by Jeffery Renard Allen

Author:Jeffery Renard Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55597-347-6
Publisher: Graywolf Press
Published: 2014-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

Shimmy

I know I am not alone.

— JUNE JORDAN

Lee Christmas entered the street on a Sunday afternoon telling himself, Something fine is going to happen to me today. He had no sooner thought this, when he stepped into the full glare of the sun. As protection against the sticky yellow light and heat—were his underarms sweating? Stink follows sweat—he considered going back inside his house for an umbrella. Decided against it. The car would provide sufficient shield. The zoo would be shady. Here was the plan (words spoken in the darkness) as he and Peanut, his new lady, his main squeeze, had arranged it while returning—his hands cool and easy on the steering wheel—from their date the previous night. Lee would get to meet Boo, Peanut’s seven-year-old son. The three of them would spend the afternoon at the zoo. Lee could imagine her hanging on tight to his arm and the kid tagging along beside them. After the zoo, they would show Boo Lee’s office. Next, they would go out for dinner. Finally, they would go back to Lee’s place. The adults would put Boo to bed so they themselves could talk. Though neither had said it, Lee took this to mean that their relationship had remained virgin long enough. He would rise refreshed after a vigorous night of love. Drive Boo to school. Peanut to the Look It Over Lounge, where she worked as a barmaid.

His white BMW gave back the sun’s glitter. He got inside and found it full of sun. Though two years from forty, he dressed in the latest fashions, like a man half his age. White linen blazer and matching slacks. Red silk collarless shirt. Tan cowhide belt. White silk socks. Black espadrilles. After the date, he’d gotten a house cut. Hair prickly at the sides and in the back. As thick and square as a privet hedge on top. Nineteen years Peanut’s senior. Felt the need to look young for her.

The engine roared to life. His custom, he drove the white BMW with hands gripping the steering wheel, palms spreading cupfuls of sweat. At times he believed that the sun was actually drumming on the roof of the car. He turned down his blinds. Sunlight shimmered on the windshield. Fell squarely against his face. The car reached Turtle Avenue. X-rated marquees swam into focus. Love, Gestapo-Style. Studboy. DD Movie. The Plumber of Love. He’s the plumber of love, wrecking homes with a foot of pipe. Electricity ran the rails of Lee’s legs, to his groin.

Peanut and Boo lived in this neighborhood. She claimed they leased a small studio apartment. Lee had never seen it.

I can’t let you come in, cause it sort of junky and whatnot.

I’m not afraid of a little junk, Lee said.

Yeah, but I am.

Lee would always park in front of her building and honk his horn. Then she would come downstairs.

Peanut had told him that she sometimes left Boo home by himself. He can take care of himself and whatnot.

But he’s just seven.

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